Iris
by Rebekah Caren
Summary: When everything's meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's another story. From me. Deal with iiiiiiit.


Okay, **misleading title. Boo hoo. But seriously. Not a story about Iris. Not that I know of, anyway. These things, they come and go. Onwards (I think).**

* * *

He knew something was wrong. The way she gently put the phone on the hook. The pure fire in her eyes. She stood quickly and made her way towards the women's restroom, the door slamming almost unnoticeably in the unusually noisy precinct.

But he noticed.

He always noticed her.

This time, though, he stood up and followed her.

He tapped his knuckles lightly on the door before pushing it open. She was sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Her head was slumped forward, face covered with the honey coloured locks. He walked through the bathroom, making sure all of the stalls were empty, and then strode back to the door, turning the silver lock. He then slid down the wall beside her.

She let him drape an arm around her. A moment passed in silence before she slumped over onto his shoulder. He knew she was crying. She hadn't made a noise, but he knew. She allowed him to wrap his arms all the way around her, drawing her against his chest.

"He left," she whispered hoarsely into his chest. He looked down at her. The tears were slowing slightly, making breaks in the streams down his jacket.

"You don't have to tell me, Karen," he said, not wanting to break the already thin layer she had given him. He wasn't going to push. Except maybe that rat bastard. Off a cliff.

"He said that he just wasn't happy anymore. That he hasn't been for years," she said, ignoring his last statement. He pulled his arms tighter.

"It's gonna be okay," he said, fighting the urge to rub her back. She was the God damn Chief of Police. He shouldn't even be doing what he was. She lay silent. They must have looked an odd pair, huddled together on the women's bathroom floor. But he didn't care.

And, honestly, she didn't either. It had had been a long time since someone comforted her, and a hell of a lot longer since she had been held.

"I have to go and get my daughter," she whispered again in her hoarse voice. Carlton moved, his hand coming to tilt her chin up. Her eyes were puffy, clouded with tears and smeared with mascara, but the gorgeous colour remained unchanged. He found himself having to tear away from them.

"Keep your chin like this," he instructed. "There's no sense in her knowing right now." She nodded, and he produced a packet of tissues from his jacket. He handed her one. She took it and dried her eyes, then blew her nose. When she looked back up, he was standing and offering her a hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet. He unlocked the door, but paused.

"Oh, and tell Iris I said hello," he said, then tilted her chin up once more. "You'll both be okay." He left, quickly making his way back to his desk, hoping that his shirt and tie didn't look wet. Not that he really cared.

Karen stayed in the bathroom for another few minutes, deciding what she needed to do. And thinking. Always thinking. Telling Iris could wait. She would pick her up early from school and go get ice cream. That would work. For now.

She took Carlton's advice as she left the bathroom. She kept her chin up as she walked back to her office to grab her purse. When she was walking out of the station doors, she caught one last sight of him, motioning for her to tilt her head up. She did. He smiled encouragingly. God, his smile was nice.

And utterly unnerving. Carlton didn't smile often, and he sure as hell wasn't a comforter. But he still did. She was in a new zone with Carlton, really more of a no man's land. Of course she knew who Detective Carlton Lassiter was. I say what I mean_,_ no nonsense, _I'd rather move to Canada_, Carlton Lassiter. But, she had just gotten a peak of Carlton the Man. And, the truth was, she hoped she got to see a little more of Carlton the Man.

She picked her daughter up, smiling at the sight of her blonde braid bouncing as she pranced down the hall. They went for ice cream, which went without a single tear from Karen. They had dinner, and Iris had a bath. No tears, on Karen's part, anyway. She would never understand why children hated baths.

Iris was snuggled into bed before all hell almost broke loose. It was only just barely caged to begin with, really, though.

"Momma?" the little girl asked. Karen had just been about to leave. She turned on her heel.

"Yes, baby?" she asked her daughter in return. Iris pulled her stuffed rabbit closer to her.

"When is Daddy coming home?"

A sob caught in Karen's throat.

"Cause he said he wasn't coming home tonight."

Another sob.

"When did he tell you this, Iris?" she managed. Iris squeezed the stuffed toy.

"When he took me to school."

Bastard. A God damn son of a bitch.

"Momma! That's a bad word!"

Whoops. That had been out loud, not just loudly in her head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I promise it won't happen again," she assured her bemused daughter.

"Are you mad at Daddy?" Iris asked her.

"A little bit," Karen said. What she meant, however, was quite a different story. She kissed her daughter goodnight and turned off the lights. She left the door open (per Iris' request).

Once in her bedroom, hell finally was let out, Karen no longer able to keep it caged. She cried until she was sure that she couldn't anymore. Then she washed her face. A long, hot shower was followed by a swig of Jack that her husband had so graciously left in his night stand. And another. And then another.

Half a bottle later, she was laid across the end of her bed, watching the stars overtake the sky as most of the city's lights shut off. She blindly reached for the phone. Even in her drunken state, she expected herself to call her mother, or even Barb. Instead, she dialed the only number she could think of.

"Karen?" his voice was deep and husky; she had woken him up.

"Hey, Carlton."

* * *

** I know I've got a billion and one things going on at the moment, which means you've probably got two billion and one things. But, please review. Please. I have cupcakes.**


End file.
